


A Stab in the Back

by nightchandac



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, theres more to come when i can figure out how it works, this was a prompt fill that got out of hand
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-14
Updated: 2017-08-14
Packaged: 2018-12-15 05:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11799759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightchandac/pseuds/nightchandac
Summary: Prompt fill for an ask on tumblr:"You're gonna make it, just stay awake."I didn't mean to make it this long.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Haleir Tralinson belongs to [@inquisitorialbusiness ](https://inquisitorialbusiness.tumblr.com/) on tumblr. He's an Avvar elf and I love him a lot and so does Flynn.
> 
> Also, inquisitorialbusiness helped write this, they just don't have an account here so I can't add them as a co-creator.

Flynn squinted against the Exalted Plains sunlight, raising a hand to shield his eyes.  It wasn’t a hot day, but they’d been traveling all day, running to and fro and fighting Freemen and undead, they were all tired.  They were on the last leg of their trek to their new campsite and moving at a quick pace, hoping to get there before sundown.

 

Flynn and Sera led the group, Bull, Dorian, and Haleir bringing up the rear.  Flynn and Sera’s laughter echoed through the trees as they playfully shoved each other and raced to the edge of the woods.  They stopped suddenly, tensing and slowly drawing their weapons, motioning for the others to prepare for another battle.  Flynn dropped into stealth, using the trees to help hide himself.  Sera loosed arrow after arrow, moving to the edge of the battlefield to get better perspective.  Hal was already charging ahead, Bull at his heels.  Dorian stood behind, casting barriers and lightning.  

 

It was a quick battle; the Freemen didn’t stand a chance against them.  Flynn and Hal stood panting next to each other, the others celebrating and checking themselves for injuries.  Flynn raised his hand to offer a congratulatory high-five, a broad smile across his face.  Hal shook his head, his own smile playing at his lips as he made to return Flynn’s high-five when Flynn’s face fell.  Hal looked on in confusion before the Freemen assassin appeared behind Flynn.  

 

Flynn moved quickly, grunting in pain as he spun, nearly decapitating his attacker with his daggers.  The man was dead before he hit the dirt and Flynn stared down at the body as he panted. “Fuck.”

 

“Boss, you okay?” Bull asked, his voice full of concern.  

 

Hal moved to Flynn’s side, noticing how the boy had paled dramatically.  “Hjartat?”  His voice was quiet and he raised a shaking hand to Flynn’s shoulder. 

 

“‘M fine…” Flynn replied, waving everyone away.  His eyes fluttered closed and he stumbled forward into Hal’s arms.

 

“Flynn!”  Hal supported him as he fell, reaching a hand around to the injury and feeling warm and wet.  His hand came away alarmingly red.  “Flynn, please.”

 

Dorian poured a healing potion into Flynn’s mouth, cursing as he reached for another one.  “If you die on my watch, your brother will murder me.  Don’t you dare.”

 

Flynn smiled weakly, coughing as he tried to laugh.  “G-got it.”  He tried to move, but hands were on his shoulders stopping him.  “H-hey…”  His head lolled to the side, eyes fluttering closed again but not opening.

 

“Boss, come on.  You gotta stay awake.  We’ll get you to a healer, but you need to stay awake,” Bull was saying as he lifted him into his arms.

 

Flynn cried out as he was moved, sending him into a violent coughing fit that sent blood across Bull’s chest. 

 

“We need to bandage that before taking him anywhere or he’ll bleed out before we can get to help,” Hal said, trying to keep the panic from his voice.

 

“Right…”  Bull lowered Flynn onto his stomach, pulling the boy’s jacket off to expose the wound more.  He reached to cut off Flynn’s blood-soaked shirt but a hand stopped him.

 

“No.  I-I’ll do that…” Hal stuttered, quiet but firm.  He took one of Flynn’s daggers and began cutting, trying to shield Flynn from everyone’s view.  He found he wasn’t going to be able to bandage the wound without help and bit his lip, closing his eyes and begging silent forgiveness from Flynn.   _ Forgive me, hjartat… _  “I...I need help…” He shifted out of the way and grimaced at everyone’s gasps at the sight of Flynn’s back.  It was covered in almost an overwhelming amount of scars, some small but others dark and stretching across his entire back.

 

“Oh, fuck…”

 

“Sweet Maker…”

 

“What the hell?”

 

“I need help!”  Hal’s voice was urgent and seemed to snap everyone to attention.  Dorian helped Flynn sit up as Hal bandaged him with his discarded shirt, giving him the last healing potion before Bull lifted him again.

 

The trek to camp was silent, save for Bull’s attempts to keep the Inquisitor awake.  When they finally reached the camp and handed Flynn off to the healers, they sat around the fire in silence.  Sera sat with her knees drawn up, chin resting on them as she stared into the low light of the flames.  Bull sat on a log, his ax propped next to him and he simply stared, expressionless.  Dorian was on a boulder near the edge of camp, nervously fidgeting with his staff.  Hal sat near the healers’ tent, facing the fire but keeping an ear turned to hear anything from the tent.  He chewed on his nails as he hugged his knees tight to his chest, feeling smaller than he’d ever felt before.  The energy from everyone felt uneasy, almost awkward, but no one said a word.

 

In the distance, low thunder rumbled and everyone looked at the darkening sky for a moment before movement from the healers’ tent distracted them.  They all stood as one healer reported on Flynn’s condition.

 

“The wound is deep and will need much attention, but it should not be fatal as long as infection doesn’t set in,” she said, looking between everyone and finally honing in on Hal.  She motioned him to her side.  “If you’d like, you may keep watch over him tonight.  I know you’re good with herbs and the like, though our supplies are low, and we’ll be just a tent away should you need anything.  He’s more likely to listen to you over us, and he needs to stay still and rest for a successful recovery.”

 

Hal nodded, silently thanking the woman, before entering the tent.  Flynn was laid out on his side, a fresh basin of water with rags next to him and he appeared to be sleeping.  He looked so small…  Hal sat next to him, gently brushing the hair from his eyes.  Flynn grunted quietly.

 

“Hal?  Is that you?”  His voice was weak and strained and he struggled to open his eyes.

 

Hal shushed him, letting his fingers linger on his cheek for a moment.  “It’s me; I’m right here.”  

 

“My back hurts,” Flynn said, trying to smile.

 

Hal smiled back.  “You don’t say?  Maybe next time don’t offer to hold an enemy’s dagger there,” Hal joked, though his voice quivered, making the humor sound off.

 

“Ah...right.  My bad.”  Flynn shuddered involuntarily and hissed in pain at the movement.  “Fuck…”

 

“Shhh, I know.  Stay still.”  Hal called some magic to his hands and gently hovered them over Flynn’s wound.  

 

He flinched at the touch but soon relaxed, humming softly.  “Thanks,” he murmured.  


	2. Chapter 2

Hal sat with Flynn, keeping him as comfortable as he could, offering him blankets and water as often as he needed, telling him stories, and distracting him from the pain.  The storm outside had finally blown in, bringing fierce winds and heavy rain, stuttered with loud thunder and bright flashes of lightning.  Flynn had fallen asleep, but one loud crack of thunder made him jerk awake and he cried out in pain.  He balled the blanket under him in his fist as pain rolled over him and Hal rushed to try to calm him and ease his pain.  

 

Hal turned to the small, almost empty trunk of herbs and potions left by the healers and pulled out a healing potion, helping Flynn drink it.  As he turned to add the empty bottle to the small pile in the corner, Flynn coughed and called out to him weakly.

 

“H-Hal...is it...cold in here?”

 

Hal froze.  Oh no.  He turned back to see Flynn shivering and trying to wrap himself tighter in the blanket over him.  Hal reached out, brushing the sweat-soaked hair from Flynn’s forehead before resting his hand there.

 

“Hmm, your hand feels warm…”

 

Hal bit his lip against the rising panic.  “I...I need to check your wound, all right?”

 

Flynn whimpered but nodded, whining at the touch.

 

As Hal pulled back the bandage, he swore under his breath.  It looked angry and red and the way Flynn squirmed and cried at Hal’s touch told him everything he needed to know.  The words the healer had said earlier ran through Hal’s head: _It should not be fatal as long as infection doesn’t set in_.  No, no, Hal would not allow Flynn to die.  Not here, not now.  He still had a world to save.

 

Hal began trying to clean the wound, the clean water in the basin next to Flynn soon turning red as he worked.  Flynn was shivering as Hal wrapped a fresh bandage around him, shaking though he was sweating.  This was bad.  He helped Flynn lie down again, brushing his hair from his face and offering what comfort he could as he tried to think of what he could do to fix this.

 

He turned around to comb through the trunk of herbs and supplies to try to make a salve.  “Flynn? Talk to me, okay?” he called over his shoulder as he searched.

 

Flynn hummed and muttered something unintelligible.

 

Hal took a steadying breath, afraid his voice would betray him when he spoke again.  “Flynn?”

 

Flynn gave a weak cough and muttered something again.  “What should I s-say?”

 

“Tell me a story?”  He hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question.  He was frustrated, struggling to find the herbs he needed, and focused on keeping his hands from shaking.  

 

There was a bright flash of lightning and loud thunder, causing Flynn to whimper weakly.  Hal heard him take a shaky breath, coughing again.  “Uh, when I...when...when I was...I…” he trailed off, struggling to get the words out.

 

“It’s okay, hjartat, just keep talking.  It’s okay.”  Hal’s resolve was crumbling, his calm facade beginning to crack as Flynn’s condition continued to deteriorate.

 

“When I was...I was little...aravels…  We had...nap aravel.  Lots of...pillows… I...I hated naps…  Keeper would...Eorthan and papae...train them…”  Flynn trailed off again, his voice barely above a whisper.  He was breathing rapidly, struggling to keep his eyes open and he suddenly groaned loudly, calling out to Hal.  “Hal, I--ugh, I’m gonna be sick…”  He tried to push himself up, giving up almost immediately and squeezing his eyes shut tight.

 

Hal turned, quickly searching for a bucket and helping Flynn up, holding him as he was sick into it.  He fought the tears pricking the corners of his eyes as Flynn cried weakly in his arms.  He had to get something for that wound, and fast.

 

“H-Hal?” Flynn croaked quietly.  “Am I...dying?”

 

That was almost enough to make Hal crack right then.  Hal closed his eyes tightly and leaned down to kiss Flynn’s forehead.  “Not if I have anything to say about it.  You’re gonna make it, just stay awake.”   

 

Flynn murmured something that sounded like _I love you_ and Hal’s heart felt like it was in his throat.  He had to do something.  The storm outside was fierce and trying to go out in the dark of night is dangerous on its own, but with the downpour and lightning, it’s even worse.  Solemnly, Hal realized he had one choice left if Flynn was going to survive this.  Hell, it might not even work, but it was the only thing he had.  

 

He needed help from a spirit.

 

He laid Flynn back down, pulling the blanket over his shoulders and kissing his forehead again, promising to be back soon before he darted out of the tent.  He headed to the healers first, telling them to help Flynn while he was gone.  He knew they wouldn’t be able to do much without supplies, but they could at least ensure he stayed awake and keep him comfortable.  After he watched the healers head into Flynn’s tent, he turned to call for the others.  They gathered near a small, somewhat sheltered clearing a little ways from the camp, everyone dripping wet and looking disheveled as they’d hastily got ready and followed Hal.  

 

“What are we doing out here?  What’s wrong?” Sera asked, running her fingers through her soaking wet hair.

 

“I need to speak with a spirit.  It’s the only way to help the Inquisitor...he’s sick.  It won’t take long, but…  If I can’t keep the spirit under control, I need you to kill me.”  Hal looked between the others, his gaze fierce and he made sure they felt the gravity of the situation.  Bull nodded once, his face expressionless.  Sera looked confused, but agreed.  She knew there was no arguing with Hal when he was like this.  Dorian seemed the most concerned, no doubt thinking about how high of a risk Hal was at for possession in his state, but he also agreed.  “And tell Flynn I’m sorry, okay?”  

 

“Be careful,” was all Dorian managed to say before Hal shot him a glance.  

 

He knew what was at stake.  He knew he had to be careful.  So much was at stake here, but it would be worth it if Flynn survived.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Dorian watched Hal walk further into the clearing, kneeling and taking deep breaths.  The rain around him stopped as Hal muttered to himself.  Dorian tried to make out what he was saying, but over the storm it was useless.  Suddenly, Hal cried out, lurching forward briefly, and as soon as it had all begun, it was over.

 

“That...that was it?” Sera asked as Hal rose to his feet.

 

“I thought there’d be more...flair,” Bull said, eyeing Hal carefully.

 

Dorian watched Hal rush off back to camp, the boy’s eyes wild and urgent.

 

They follow him back, watching as he raced around, gathered what plants he could before heading back into Flynn’s tent.  The healers were kicked out, looking confused as they shuffled back to the safety of their own tent.  Dorian could hear them talking amongst themselves but paid them no mind.  He turned his attention back to the Inquisitor’s tent, hearing shuffling and muttering, clinking glass and ceramic as Hal worked with whatever the spirit had given him.  Finally, the storm had gotten too much and he had to retreat back into his own tent, plopping down onto his bedroll with an exhausted sigh.

He still couldn’t get the image of Flynn’s scarred back out of his mind.  He and the others had discussed it, and Dorian felt awful about it.  The boy hadn’t been around to defend himself and they’d talked about him and speculated what the scars meant.  Of course, they all  _ knew _ what they meant, but none of them truly wanted to believe it.  That someone so young, someone so close to them had been a slave.  A slave subject to that much pain…

 

And there they were, sitting around discussing it while he fought for his life a few tents over.  Dorian wondered if his brother knew...

 

He wasn’t much of a praying man, but he whispered a quick prayer as he sat, trying his best to dry his clothes.  

 

\---------

 

Hal rushed over to the trunk of supplies, mixing what he could and pulling a small knife from his belt.  He looked back at Flynn, whose face was flushed yet pale and he shivered, clutching the blanket around him in his fist.  Hal bit his lip, dragging the knife across his palm and letting blood drip onto the seeds in his other hand, watching them change before he added them to the vile-smelling concoction.  When the potion stopped bubbling, Hal squeezed his hand once more, letting more blood drip into it to stabilize it.  Once he was sure the potion was ready, he helped Flynn sit up, supporting his head as he forced him to drink.

 

He watched with bated breath as the potion slowly began to take effect.  Flynn’s eyes fluttered open and focused on Hal and he gave him a weak smile.  “Hal?”

 

Hal kissed his forehead, smoothing his hair back, and let out a sigh of relief.  “I’m here.  You’re gonna be okay.  Stay with me.”

 

Flynn closed his eyes again, relaxing in Hal’s arms.  “I’m...okay…” he muttered. 

 

Hal moved him and bandaged his hand before setting to work cleaning and redressing Flynn’s wound again.  It didn’t look as angry anymore; the potion was definitely working, though it didn’t seem as fast as he thought it should be.  He leaned back and watched Flynn fall asleep, his own eyelids feeling heavy.  He wrapped a blanket over his shoulders and fought sleep, keeping an eye on Flynn’s rising and falling chest, on the way his nose twitched as he slept…

 

Hal woke slowly to the sounds of birds chirping happily and trees dripping raindrops onto the tent as early morning sunlight crept in between a crack in the tent flaps. He chided himself for falling asleep and sat up, stretching and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Flynn?" He called. He looked over and saw the other boy sleeping soundly on his bedroll. But...something seemed off. "Flynn?" He called again. "Wake up."  

 

Nothing. 

 

Fear threatened to freeze Hal where he sat, but he let his panic instinct take over and make him move. "Flynn, wake up." More commanding this time, but still no response. "Wake up! Flynn!" 

 

No. No no no nonono. This wasn't happening. "Hjärtat, please wake up."  Hal continued to call out to Flynn, to try to rouse him, but nothing was working.  He heard something in the back of his mind, perhaps the others coming to find just what he had…

 

“Hal?”

 

He didn’t reply, he simply held onto Flynn in disbelief.

 

“Hal!”

 

Hal jerked awake, sitting upright with a gasp.  The blanket around his shoulders fell and he looked around the dark tent, trying to get his bearings.  It was dawn and the storm had mostly passed but it was still raining.  

 

“Sorry...you were having a nightmare.  I couldn’t really...get up to wake you…” Flynn said, trying to reach a hand out to him.

 

Hal took several deep breaths as he laid his hand in Flynn’s.  A nightmare.  He looked Flynn over, seeing how much his condition had improved in the few hours he’d slept.  His face had more color in it, though his cheeks were still flushed, but he looked more alert now.  His voice had sounded clearer as well.  Hal let out a deep sigh of relief.  Flynn was going to be okay.  He was going to make it.

 


End file.
